shapeshifter
by reminiscent-afterthought
Summary: Faces and emotions could moult so rapidly off one's face that, in an instant, they became unrecognisable. Their names however - the names they were born with - would not change.
1. S

**A/N: **Written for dear Sanch (EternallySeventeen), for the Fic Exchange of Epic Proportions on the HPFC. Hope you enjoy Sanch. :D

* * *

**_HAPESHIFTER  
**

**S**he wondered if she ever could  
forget  
that look  
that was her face.

She was a woman after all  
yet a woman who from birth  
flipped the surface of her skin  
inside-out  
so many times

She couldn't say  
that the face she kept inside  
was her own.


	2. H

**S_APESHIFTER**

**H**er face had become one  
she had made  
with her own two hands,

Something  
so very few could say

And without a breath she could be  
anyone,  
anything,  
anytime:

The perfect imposter  
who could slip through cracks  
unseen

But she still had her words  
and her manner  
to catch – like loose cotton balls –  
on the thorns of a rose bush.


	3. A

**SH_PESHIFTER**

**A**nother subtle change  
and she was unrecognisable once more:  
in face at least, for the men who watched  
roared in laughter as she fell  
over the umbrella stand once more.

But, at least for them, it was a handy tool  
indeed, for there wouldn't be  
an umbrella stand  
to trip and break her guise

And she made her favourites too,  
those that were her instead  
of her in another's face.

The face she was born with  
was hard to match, when it had changed  
far too much since that day,  
but what she had made her own

Was almost  
as good.


	4. P

**SHA_ESHIFTER**

**P**erhaps this wasn't what  
the fates had had in mind

But even they could not deny  
such peals of laughter  
made so fine a prize.

Her scrunches and snorts  
and the outrageous features  
she sports  
was so entertaining a treat  
that the table legs couldn't help  
but shake and giggle too.

The best part of all was that  
it was a gift of hers – to put smiles  
in tired lips and strained eyes  
and spread a little joy  
in darker times

Because not even she  
could morph away those lines  
of age and war

But to create a smile  
was just as good –  
or better.


	5. E

**A/N:** And so Tonk's reign finished in the last poem, and Remus' begins here. :D

* * *

**SHAP_SHIFTER**

**E**ven the night before  
he could not grasp the horror  
yet to come.

The tears that fell weren't his;  
the baited breath the cage  
made from other's hands.  
But even shadows:  
nameless, misunderstood,  
could craft the form of fear

And he shivered under frail blankets  
waiting for a coming nightmare  
to begin –

A nightmare  
that would scar his face  
forever.


	6. S-

**SHAPE_HIFTER**

**S**lowly, his face began to reflect  
that permanent change:  
no longer was that elongated nose  
once – with the moon – but a constant  
feature the mirror saw.

Wounds bled over and did not heal  
and there was no going back  
when a wound fails to heal.

He was more a wolf now than a man  
he knew: those cheekbones, once full of life  
and his father's heritage, had faded  
into the gloom of a wolf's fierce hunger  
and his eyes, once warm and brown,  
not had a permanent yellow tinge to them.

No-one else saw them, save those who knew  
that face before: these subtle changes  
were still a human mask

But that change – that once a moon –  
was becoming a truer face  
by the time…

It was only supposed to be once a month  
but once a month was too many times  
for his face to stay unchanged.


	7. H-

**SHAPES_IFTER**

**H**is face ached  
often, from the tender smile  
that sat upon his lips.

But how could he not wear a smile?  
Amidst joyous children so ignorant  
of the world: who held fears both  
innocent and wise beyond their years…

And yet, they were the students, and he the teacher  
with all the answers to teach  
and he had a face to wear

Even if it meant hiding that true face of his –  
that wolf that slumbered –  
inside.


	8. I

**A/N: **Remus is done. The last four poems are reserved for our resident kitty.

* * *

**SHAPESH_FTER**

**I**n time, he had forgotten  
a great many things.

Three friends  
who had taken on new faces  
and forms for him.

A woman  
who'd smiled, hugged, and then scolded  
him in turn.

A headmaster  
who had brought him home  
with open arms.

And now, others doing the same  
and he couldn't help that tears  
ran down those old wounds

Because they still ached and prodded  
and were shamed  
but the way they smiled and yelled at him  
made him think: that face of his  
was no worse after all.


	9. F

**SHAPESHI_TER**

**F**ur replaces skin  
and marks become the scars  
that frame her eyes.

Within a breath of time  
she can change her face and form:  
become another  
not even human  
animal…

Of her own violation.  
She chose it to be so  
and yet it still dances upon her heart:  
that image  
of her face small and full  
and glowing yellow eyes  
where only those marks upon her nose  
reflect the human  
in her heart.


	10. T

**SHAPESHIF_ER**

**T**he transformation was always quick  
and a flawless craft;  
her mind was the only thing that stayed.

Her detest of silverfish vanished  
into cat-like lust, and her paws  
touched the ground  
in reverence

But her piercing eyes still caught  
the sneaking mice about,  
whether they were yellow with marks  
around the rim, or  
that stern hard brown.


	11. E-

**SHAPESHIFT_R**

**E**ven if she hadn't picked  
the form, she was happy enough  
with it.

Those small feet let her sneak  
into closer halls  
and that bending back  
arched her to new heights

And who cared if she couldn't fly:  
she could reach higher, see farther  
than an old witch on a broom  
in the moonlight.

Though…sometimes…  
she thought she might've stopped  
when she saw those lines  
that forever changed her face

(except she never could have  
since that was her true face  
after all.)


	12. R

**A/N:** And this is the last of the poems. Enjoy. :D

* * *

**SHAPESHIFTE_**

**R**eminiscing on the past  
she couldn't remember what her face  
had said before

Because this was all she knew:  
a cat behind the eyes of a human  
crafted by the passing age.

Oh, she had her photos  
to tell the tales of old…  
but the faces  
that they showed…

They were other people  
from a time long gone;  
the emotions, the moments  
she recalled  
but that face was a different one.

Maybe this is what they meant  
by being reborn with age;  
that woman with a smooth face  
was a stranger, and the other –  
with wrinkles where whiskers could sprout –  
was her.


End file.
